My third visit to Bangalore in last two months was going to end. As usual, I was leaving with mixed feelings. For me, a ‘Bangalore visit’ was always welcome, as a respite from my busy schedule, dank Chennai climate, amid temple-like IISc and not to mention a buoyant environment at my friend’s place and a wonderful greenery, of course!. But at the same time, since the work progress was not at par, I was thinking of what to report, when I get back. I had booked online, a sleeper class ticket (Actually, I love to travel in sleeper class where once gets to see the real Indian middle class) in Kaveri Express which was at 11.45 pm from Bangalore city railway station. IISc is quite near to the railway station and at night, one can reach comfortably in 15-20 min. by bus, so I started at 10.45 pm hoping to reach in time. I managed to reach the station by 11.25 pm. When the train finally came at 11.35 pm, and I found myself looking in my ticket, I realized that my booked ticket had an RAC 58 (reservation against cancellation) status. I was sure it would have got confirmed. But still, I had to know my coach no. to board the train !
“Oh God, what a jerk, I am! How could I forget to check the status?”
I decided to rush back to platform no. 1 and check the status at the counter. “Will I be able to make it ?”, I asked myself. A part of me said “Go ahead, dude, life is full of risks”, and the other one ridiculed “Are you crazy ? You have committed one mistake already, why commit another?”. I didn’t realize, but somehow I found myself running to platform 1. I might have run faster than the fastest Indian. People around stared at me, then I realized that normally people run towards the train and not away from it, which I was. Somehow, I reached the counter and inquired the half-asleep clerk for my reservation status. From my ticket and seeing me panting he realized the emergency and scribbled something on my ticket and I set off on my way back to platform no. 5 where my train was all set to go, without me on it! On my way, I read my ticket – it was coach S11, seat 71. The signal was clear, and the train was about to leave any minute. Luckily, my coach was right at the place where one gets down from the stairs.
As soon as I boarded, the train set-off. I thought, “Seconds late, and you would be returning to IISc”, panting heavily. I thanked God, and admired my ability to handle difficult situations like these. I decided to ease my breath, and enjoy fresh air before going and resting at my reserved seat. Little did I know what was in store for me that night, which could become the most important one for my life!
If you have traveled in sleeper coaches, you would know they have 9 compartments with 72 seats. My seat was 71, a side-lower seat, which I normally don’t prefer as it is difficult to adjust one’s body while sleeping. From my standing position, I saw a fine young lady, rather, an attractive girl sitting on my seat staring out of the window. Obviously, she hadn’t noticed me from my standing position. I could see only half of her face, as the other half was covered by her hair which was flowing due to the gushing wind, which made her look even more beautiful. “But what is she doing on my seat, maybe she’s on 72” I thought. I went and kept my bag on the seat, showing her that I hadn’t noticed her sitting. She turned suddenly, looked at me not looking at her, and gazed her eyes back out of the window. I guessed, if she was trying to locate any ‘spirits’ out of the train window, that perhaps come out of their graves in dark nights and enjoy damsels staring at them!
I felt the cold wind cause chills down my spine, but didn’t want to ask her to close the window, as the scene was too good! A part of me said “What are you doing, you ass? Is it decent to stare at a girl like this?” Immediately, the other half said “You fool, this is the first, and might be the last time, you have a decent-looking girl sitting in front of you in a train, are you going to keep staring at her, or would pick a conversation, at least?”. Let me confess, that I am bad at many things, but I am at my worst at starting a conversation with a girl. Its as if God forgot to put a capacitor responsible for the job, in my brain circuit. After 20 min. or so, I was quite sure, that she was alone, as any guardian or a friend accompanying a girl won’t keep quiet for such a long time. But still, I couldn’t think of a way to start a talk. All other inmates of my compartment had gone to sleep without waiting for the TTE to come. It was then I noticed a Chinese looking Indian guy, perhaps from North East, coming towards our seat. He came straight and said “ 72 ?, where is 72?” We both looked at him, and then looked at each other. “It’s side upper”, I said, and asked “Which coach, Sir?” “S11! is it not?” he replied, showing me his ticket as if I was a TTE. Indeed it was written in clear letters, and it wasn’t even an e-ticket. Perhaps the guy was late in boarding the train, and might have got on into some other coach. But then what was the young lady doing in my seat? Though this was the worst way to start a conversation, I said, politely “Ma’am, could you tell me what is your coach and seat number?”, which I think she didn’t hear. I repeated it again, louder.
“It is S11 – 71, same as yours”, she said in fluent English.
“What do you mean, same as yours?”, I said.
She replied, ‘Don’t you know that this seat no. 71,..an RAC is allotted to two persons?’
I said, ‘Of course not, let me check your ticket, please?’ I knew I was annoying her, but there wasn’t a choice. “Why don’t you check yours, first?”, she said. I pulled out my ticket, and to my utter amazement, I saw something written in blue ink, from which I could make out the letters ‘A’ and ‘C’, but there was no ‘R’. I recalled the situation of emergency and understood the mistake, and immediately said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see my ticket, actually, I was in a bit of hurry, so …..’, tried to explain the situation. I thought it might have been amusing but she didn’t smile, just listened intently. One can never know what may sound amusing to a girl and what not, it is more complex than quantum electrodynamics. Till then Mr Sino-Indian had retired on his seat. It was then when we saw Mr TTE coming. Having realized that it was my responsibility to start a conversation, I said ‘I thought the status would have confirmed..but..Don’t worry, the TTE is coming, I’ll talk to him, we’ll get separate seats’.
“I thought nobody would come on 72, but now………’,she said sounding tensed.
"So that’s why she was so cool all the time", I realized. Mr TTE came to our compartment, and I allowed all other members to finish their ticket checks so that we had ample time to sort out our problem. They did, half asleep, and slept again. Mr BT Vishwanath Babu, the TTE, too finished his work, swiftly and when he was done with Mr Sino-Indian, I uttered in a low voice, "Sir, I hope you realize the situation, we both have an RAC ticket for the same seat, so please…please try to get a seat, and I’ll have to move there".
He said, “I have finished 7 coaches, no seats vacant as yet, 4 more to go, I’ll tell you as soon as I get one....you could have booked a ‘tatkal’ ticket instead” He sounded like a marketing manager of railways, and I realized how railways have earned so much of cash through this tatkal scheme. But since I was the ‘seeker’, I pretended that I had indeed, made a grave mistake. Who would have thought that RAC ticket wouldn’t get confirmed?
She seemed satisfied with my imploring, but suddenly said, ‘Sir, please don’t forget, its very very urgent’ to which Mr Babu said, ‘Madam, I can only try, but no guarantee’ and went to the next coach.
‘Maybe he wanted money, but I don’t know how to offer’ she said, first time starting the talk.
"Ya, perhaps, I know that TTEs have a seat in every train, which they often ‘sell’", showing my experience. “Then, you should’ve offered, we could’ve shared the amount”, she said.
“I am hopeful of getting a spare seat, if he doesn’t, then I’ll try’, I replied.
“But how long are we going to wait? Its 12.30 am already, and I want to sleep”, she said yawning. Although my sleep had vanished due to multiple adrenaline rushes, I said, “Same, here! But we’ll have to wait at least half an hour, that’s the approx. time it will take him to cover all the coaches’. She seemed satisfied, and looked at me, first time in my eyes, her gaze was so intense that I almost thought of dropping out, but I didn’t. Ultimately, she fixed her gaze back to the ‘spirits’ outside the train.
It was then, when it occurred to me, “What if I was wrong, what if the TTE doesn’t turn up ? None of us mentioned that we two didn’t know each other, not even our names. He could easily have assumed that we are related. She is south-Indian without doubt, and I look like one, too!! But I dare not say this to her, she’ll flare!". A chill went down my spine, not due to the cold wind, but at the thought of what would happen in that case. I didn’t know where to locate the TTE, and how he would react if I offered money. Officially, it’s a crime to even offer ‘bribe’. But then I hoped, with optimism, that such a situation wouldn’t arise.
We both were seated in front of each other, legs folded, and there was a gap of 2 inches between her foot and mine. Obviously, it would be terrible to sleep in such a posture. It was strange, but true, that only the two of us knew for sure that we were total strangers. In Indian society, two ‘strangers’ of different genders aren’t supposed to stay near each other for long, let alone, sleep for 5 hours, so the option was simply ruled out, on moral grounds. I closed my eyes, and decided to do a quick breathing exercise, to calm down my turbulent mind. I found it difficult to concentrate, and closing my eyes made no difference, for her image, with her hair falling all over her face, was fixed in my mental framework. It was then I heard a voice, “Are you asleep?” “Yes, I am”, I said opening my eyes.
She giggled, “I can see that !”… I don’t know what happened but it quelled my tiredness and nervousness. Indeed, there is definitely a power in ‘smile’. I smiled back.
“Don’t worry; I am not going to sleep on this seat!” I uttered, trying to make it sound amusing.
“What do you mean?”, she said, serious again.
“What I said is in plain English, which I hope you understand.”, I replied. Of course, there could be a lot of meanings that could be derived from that, but what I’d said was only in literal sense.
“What if he doesn’t turn up?”, she asked, “I should have canceled my ticket, and taken a bus, don’t know why I took a chance, thinking no one would turn up on the seat above or on this one”, she muttered, cursing herself. I decided to keep quiet. Sometimes silence is the best defense, indeed. I couldn't guess what she thought at my silence, but then she retorted, “I am asking something from you, Mr Avishek!”.
I was dumbstruck, “Oh God!, she knows my name, how come she knows it ?, Did she see my I-card that I'd shown to TTE ? …No....Not possible, she was far”. “You fool! she saw the reservation chart, which you didn’t as you were busy running around across platforms”. All these thoughts flashed in my mind in fraction of a second. How could I do such a mistake? I always check on the charts for my name before boarding…always! This was the first time, I hadn’t. I felt bad at my foolishness. In college days (as if it was long ago!), when we as a group used to go back after vacation, by the Punjab Mail, we used to scan the charts for all females in the age group 16-28 in our compartment. It was a nasty exercise, but somehow we felt proud doing it, indeed, those days were cool! But now it was no longer a fun, certainly not when traveling alone, and then with a greater level of maturity acquired. But at least I should’ve checked my name, and as a result I would’ve known her name, too.
Meanwhile.. she was looking at me, staring, expecting an answer. “So you know my name, don’t you ?”. “Yes, and I know you don’t know mine”, she smiled.
“How come?”I retorted. “I saw you were panting, when you boarded, I guessed you might have been late and being in haste, you wouldn’t have had the time to read the chart”. Indeed, she was a beauty with brains, I said, “You’re smart!”.
“Thanks!”, came her reply. “But aren’t you the one who is from IIT?”, she quipped.
“Oh!, you know that, too!, I said. “But that is simple, you saw it on my jacket!”. I was wearing a jacket-cum-swetshirt which had ‘IIT Madras’ written in big letters at the back.
“But you are certainly smarter than me!”, I replied. Girls have a liking for being praised; they like to hear someone singing about them, always. And it worked, she chuckled, “Yes, I am!”. “But you haven’t answered my question…”,
“Which one ?”, I said.
“Ohh! You’re a dumb IITian with a short term memory loss”, she laughed, ripping me apart. Surprisingly, I found her statement more amusing than annoying, and I laughed. “Shh!, we should not wake up others!, she said. I said, “Its not fair, you know so much about me – my name, my address, my IQ, and I know nothing about you, except that you’re smart and…..”, this was best way to get her speak about her.
“And what ?” she was curious. “….and pretty!” I completed, still thinking what I did was right or not.
“First we should solve our problem….,” she said, as if she didn’t notice my admiring her.
“Ok, I’ll go and look for the TTE, and solve our conundrum”, I replied. Though I said it, I felt too lazy to budge. But still, I went on a search for Mr BTV Babu.
“Do you need money?” she quizzed, and I replied in negative, smiling. I soon realized that this was the first time I’d told a girl, more importantly, a stranger that she was beautiful, and it had been the longest conversation I’d ever had. I felt that I was not as dumb at it, as I’d previously thought. I went up to the last coach groping my way in the dark compartments, and came back, not finding Mr TTE.
On returning, I found that she had dozed off comfortably, covering the entire seat, maybe she’d assumed that I would find a solution to our ‘confounding problem’. I asked myself “What shall I do now, how do I wake her up and tell her?? I don’t even know her name so as to call her. I can’t shout here.” all thoughts crammed their way in my mind simultaneously. There was some space for me to sit, but I preferred to stand and watch her. She was an exquisite beauty, a masterpiece of God’s art. The best time to admire a young woman’s beauty is to watch her breathe when she is asleep. You can stare at her without causing her the slightest annoyance, pleasure or vanity. Then suddenly she woke up and caught me staring at her, and I uttered “Hello, I just returned, Sorry... couldn’t find him.” “Now what ???, she said in a tone half asleep, half annoyed, as if she felt like jumping out of the train.
“You only said, that you will sort out the problem”. I realized that probably I had been too optimistic.
“Maybe the TTE couldn’t find any spare seat, and I didn’t notice any spare seat either in all the coaches upto S1.”, I tried to prove my innocence.
“There is only one way…actually two….but ultimately one”, I continued.
“I am not in a mood to solve your puzzles”, she said in a loud tone sufficient to wake up other passengers. I felt ashamed and she too realized that a couple of them had woken up, including Mr Sino-Indian. But then they slept again, thinking it might be another couple-quibble. “They can’t even stop fighting in train”, they might have thought and I smiled thinking this.
“Are you smiling or am I dreaming ?,” she quizzed, “Do you even realize what soup you have put us into?,” “Me?? I have put us into trouble?? So you mean I asked the railways to allot us an RAC seat?,” I expressed my false anger.
“Yes, if you had offered money to the TTE, then, we would be sleeping by now, I mean in separate seats, of course!”, she tried to prove her point. “Ok, tell me what are the one or two solutions you have in your mind”. “See, its simple. One of us has to go and sleep elsewhere”.
“I already know that, you’re not Einstein!”, she quipped.
“Let me finish, because there are no vacant seats, one of us has to sleep on the floor, maybe between the two lower seats in the front.” She looked at me annoyingly and didn’t say anything but I could make out from her face that she was aghast at the idea of sleeping on floor.
“Don’t worry, I will volunteer for that,”, I said and reached for my bag and took out the Chennai Times that I’d bought on my way to Bangalore. “This is perhaps, the best use of a newspaper”, I thought. Incidentally, the page had picture of Trisha, the most beautiful Tamil actress, so I smirked at my discovery.
“You look so happy, why is it that you are not at all nervous and look so comfortable even at this hour”, she quizzed. I was struck by her observation, I had a habit of sleeping late, but I was certainly happier than hours before. “I seriously don’t know….Pass!”, I said smiling. “Pass!”, she said giggling and pointed to Mr Sino-Indian who was busy dreaming. I smiled back. “You can sleep at peace, and let me make my bed”, and I laid out the newspapers on the floor. As a student I had traveled long distances even in non-reserved coaches, as well as slept on train's floor, a couple of times before. But, for the lady, it was a filthy and unhygienic act, and she could not say anything. “You didn’t tell me your name, at least I am entitled to know that”, I said, ready to retire.
“So you’re sleeping on floor so that I give you my name and contact details,”, she asked.
“I didn’t ask for your contact details, asked your name just because you know mine, all you girls are the same!”, I said, this time I was really infuriated.
“Ok, now since your problem is solved, you can keep your ‘beloved’ name to yourself and let me rest in peace, Goodnight!”, I said and closed my eyes. There was a slipper just in front of my face and I shoved it inside the seat with force. She saw it and realized that I was angry. But she kept quiet. After a few minutes, she said “Goodnight, Avishek!”, as if trying to tease me again that she knew my name and I didn’t know hers. I heard it but didn’t reply, acted as if I’d slept.
I hardly felt like sleeping, thinking about the turn of events in the last few hours, how I’d almost missed my train, and then how I lost my half-seat. These had been the most eventful hours of my life, without doubt. I tried to evaluate myself if what I’d done was the right thing to do. Almost fifteen minutes would have passed, when I heard a voice, “Avishek !,” I didn’t respond though I wanted to. “Avishekk..,” she called again, this time louder. But I restrained myself. She did a strange thing then. She got up from the seat and came near my feet which were towards her seat. She tapped with her hand on my legs, as if trying to wake me up.
“What happened, so you’ll not allow me to sleep? And you’re not allowed to touch without permission”, I said, without thinking.
“You can call me, Aani, it's a name with which I like to be called, though nobody does!”, she replied.
“It is 2 am already and I am surprised I can’t sleep even with a full seat available to stretch my legs”, she continued.
“I am not an expert for insomnia!”, I replied and thought that even my condition was the same.
“Are you still angry at me?”, she asked.
“No I am not.”, I replied.
“You’re lying!”, she completed my sentence.
“How does it matter to you? All you want is a nice, cosy and comfortable seat for you, which you have got. Now try and get some sleep!”, I said. She kept silent for a while and I closed my eyes.
“I am Ok if you would like to share the seat, I mean, officially its for both of us!”, she said. Her words increased my heart beats.
“Do you know what are you saying?”, I asked.
“Yes, I do, and I said it after all thinking I could do. Everyone here is asleep, and then I don’t care what people think. Somehow, I am not comfortable seeing you sleeping like this.”, her words appeared innocent and honest. I kept quiet. “See. I am convinced, you’re not one of those street-hooligans, or among those who take advantage of girls, so it doesn’t matter to me. And it shouldn’t matter to you, too!,” she kept talking.
“I admire your thoughts, but what will people think when its morning?”
She replied “Don’t worry, I’ll manage that! Even if they notice, you look like my elder brother. So they won’t mind!”
My heartbeats almost stopped “What is she upto?”, I thought. “What did you just say? Why do you have to bind us into a relationship?”, I asked.
“Who is binding you in a relationship? You all guys are the same. When it comes to a relationship, they opt out.”, she was back at her debating best. Girls have a ‘thing’ for debate, they don’t lose the opportunity to debate even at wee hours of midnight, even when they know they’re not going to win.
“I was talking of some other relationship and you’re talking of another, anyway, I am not in a mood to debate, if you’re really Ok with me sharing the seat, I don’t mind.”, I said. She seemed satisfied as if it was a test which we both had passed, and she passed with better marks. “Ok, then come along, and lets adjust. And you’re not allowed to touch……...”, she was saying something when I interrupted,
“That’s my patented dialogue, you can’t use it!”, and she chuckled. I stood up, dusted myself, and shoved the newspapers inside the seats. Aani made a space available so that we both could lie on opposite ends of the seat.
“Are you Ok?”, she asked after lying.
“Yes…until I fall down”, I said jokingly, though that was a definite possibility as I was on the extreme edge side.
“No you wont!, I am not fat like you!”, she replied giggling.
“You’re not slim either”, I quipped. “These are the days of ‘Size zero’ and you are fat by those standards”, I uttered a PJ.
“So you too, admire the size zero concept?”she asked ...
“He he, yes why not, after all the zero was invented in India”. “That’s a PJ”, she laughed...
“Ya, I know, I am naturally good at them”, I replied back.
“So why have you lost your sleep?”, I decided to know what was she thinking.
“I seriously, don’t know! I am surprised at that! What about you? Why are YOU not sleeping ?”, she threw my bullet back at me.
“Isn’t it rude, since you can’t sleep and you have invited me here, it wont look nice”, I lied and she understood it, and giggled. “Actually I’ll fall if I go to sleep”, I said, stating the fact.
“So lets talk until I sleep”, she said.
“Ok, fine with me. I am sure to doze off in the class tomorrow.”, I replied.
“You’re saying as if you don’t normally doze in class”, she teased. I was amused and said
“True!” “But this time you’ll have a good reason behind dozing in class, unlike some boring lectures!”, she went on and on.
“No, the classes are not always boring, the teachers are experts in their fields, and they normally teach well.” Her eyebrows were raised, “Is it? I thought it’s the same everywhere. I study electrical engineering and hardly find any of my classes interesting”
“I don’t know anything about electrical as I’m from mechanical, but I can definitely say that any subject can become interesting if its taught properly”
"Hmm!,”, she hummed.
“I always wanted to go to IIT, but couldn’t clear the JEE, not even the screening test! My parents were crazy about IIT Madras” she said.
“It doesn’t matter much in the long run”, I said, “What matters more is what you are!” Her face lightened. “Well, contrary to what you think, let me disclose that I’m neither an IITian nor dumb….I earned a BTech from NIT Jalandhar and now I’m pursuing research for my masters at IIT.” She kept quiet for some time and then asked “Where is Jalandhar? I only know about NIT Trichy”
“C’mmon! you should know some geography of your country….Jalandhar is in Punjab, about 2 hrs from Pakistan. Every state has a NIT, and Punjab’s is in Jalandhar”, I replied.
“So you’ve been living near Pakistan?”, she quizzed.
I laughed “It seems you’re going to push me down the seat, since I’m not an IITian and I’ve lived near Pakistan. Please don’t….I’m like you, I too missed it by a mark”. She giggled again. “I’d guessed you’re a northie but you don’t look like a Punjabi”.
“Ha ha!, who said that ? I’m an Indian first and then a Bihari. I was born and brought up there, my parents live in Patna.”
“BIHAR ????”, she almost woke the passengers up again. I couldn’t see her face but I imagined her mouth wide open. We both were silent for more than a minute now, when she spoke. “But your English is so good, and your tone isn’t like that of Biharis ?”,I thanked God that she didn't ask if I knew Lalu Yadav. I replied “You cannot make such general conclusions and prejudices about people just like that! There is a Prof. of English Language at IIT Madras who is a Bihari! It’s not your fault, though, and believe me, even Aishwarya Rai was asked in the US, how she could speak such fine English, being from India!”
“Ohh! so you’re comparing yourself with Aishwarya ?, she retorted teasingly.
“I’m not comparing, it was just an example, its another matter that she used to rule my heart till she married”, I replied, without thought.
“Ohh, ho!, now you’re talking …she married Abhishek, it must’ve hurt!”, she stroked me with her leg.
“Yes, it did...both then and ...now”, I replied.
“Sorry! It was just a reaction.”, she apologized.
“Its Ok! I wont do that to you!” I replied.
“You can hit me back, if you're angry.”
“I won’t, I know it was unintentional, It wont be so if I did it.” At that very instant, she stroked me again. This one was surely intentional! I was certain that she was enticing me to react, but I didn’t.
I couldn’t figure out what she expected. It was then, when it dawned on me that I was just inches close to her, though I didn’t even know her. And she was perhaps less perturbed by it than me. “This is women empowerment!”, I thought and laughed at myself. She didn’t strike me again. I thought she had slept when she asked “So who is the queen of your heart now since Aishwarya ditched you? Is it Katrina?” I wasn’t sure if she was teasing or really wanted to know about me.
“Is it necessary to answer?”, I said.
“Of course....not!", she replied almost instantly.
“Actually, I’m married…….”, I quipped “…..to work”, I finished my sentence before she assumed anything.
“That was a bad joke”, she replied with an angry tone.
“Maybe… I told you before I’m good at PJs”, I said.
“What about you ? How many boyfriends you have ?”, I asked teasingly.
“What do you mean by ‘how many’? What do you think of me?”, it appeared she was going to hit me again.
“Sorry, I should have asked how many you have had…I’ve seen girls changing their boyfriends as frequently as they change clothes”
“What do you mean?”, she sat up.
“Its ok, go back to sleep, and don’t mind… since you’re good-looking.. its impossible that no guy would’ve proposed you”.
“Yes, they did! But I refused.”, she replied.
“Why?” was my instant query.
“Because none of them were genuine. And then I don’t like doing things for which I can’t stand up in front of my parents” she replied..
“Ohh …ok!”, I sighed.
“So you never had any girlfriend? Punjabi girls are the most beautiful, I know that!”, she was back at her tempting best.
“No…Yes… maybe….I don’t know.”, I just mumbled words, confused.
“You’re so….dumbo!”, she said laughing.
“Listen, beauty may attract you, but its not the thing which is required for a relationship. And, it is only temporary. “, I replied what I’ve always felt.
“Then, what is it ?”, she asked immediately.
“I don’t know yet, maybe it’s the comfort you feel, the confidence it gives you, the ability to say something without saying”, I had said everything except the word ‘love’. “Hmm!” was her only response. Girls have a habit of 'humming' when you want them most to speak their mind.
“So you been almost all over India…?”, she tried changing the topic, an intelligent act.
“Yes, and the more I see India, the more I love her!”, I replied.
“Yes, and the more I see India, the more I love her!”, I replied.
“I, too want to see the east and the north especially Punjab.”, she wished.
“Yes, you should, Punjab has an exquisite culture! You’ll enjoy the food and the dances - Bhangra and Gidda. Even Tamil Nadu has a great culture, but it’s in stark contrast to Punjab….Ok, now let me tell you something about you”, I retorted raising her curiosity.
“Go ahead, try your luck”, she giggled.
“Ok...You are from Chennai, born and brought up in a Tamil Brahmin family. You are the only daughter of your parents. You wanted to go out of home and learn to be independent, that’s why you went to Bangalore to study engineering, though there are sufficient colleges in Chennai” …I stopped there, thinking too much of guesswork might be fatal.
“Ok...You are from Chennai, born and brought up in a Tamil Brahmin family. You are the only daughter of your parents. You wanted to go out of home and learn to be independent, that’s why you went to Bangalore to study engineering, though there are sufficient colleges in Chennai” …I stopped there, thinking too much of guesswork might be fatal.
“You’re a dumbo….!”, was what I could hear, as the train was roaring it's way on a bridge.
By this time I was really sleepy (as it was 3.30 am) so I didn’t persuade her to answer if I was right or not. When sleep takes over me, I forget the entire world. I knew it was only a matter of few hours before we reached Chennai, but somehow I couldn’t control my eyes…she asked something…to which I murmured something and was fast asleep, soon. I had dreams of her…asking me all sorts of questions as if in an interview, with Mr TTE watching us from somewhere like he was spying on us.
By this time I was really sleepy (as it was 3.30 am) so I didn’t persuade her to answer if I was right or not. When sleep takes over me, I forget the entire world. I knew it was only a matter of few hours before we reached Chennai, but somehow I couldn’t control my eyes…she asked something…to which I murmured something and was fast asleep, soon. I had dreams of her…asking me all sorts of questions as if in an interview, with Mr TTE watching us from somewhere like he was spying on us.
I woke up when I heard the train screech to a halt….”Have we reached?”, I asked. “Not yet! Its 7.10 am…Another 10 min”, Mr Sino-Indian replied. Imagine what would it be like to see a Chinese guy when you’re expecting to see a damsel in daylight. I looked around. She wasn’t to be seen anywhere, though some passengers were staring at me, as if I’d committed a grave crime. “Shall I ask about her ? But what shall I ask ? And to whom?”…I hoped everything was fine. I cursed myself for going to sleep. “You have done so many night-outs, what was wrong with another one ?? Such an idiot.” I said to myself. "Be optimistic..she might be around…and will be back before we reach.... but.... what if she didn’t? You fool !…you didn’t even ask for her phone number or at least an email id!”, I murmured.
“What number ??”, Mr Sino-Indian was curious.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”I replied. I was too peeved to talk to anyone and kept quiet !… Was this destiny ??….Was this how those few hours were supposed to end ? The train reached Chennai Central station. Everything seemed dull. I was sleepy, tired, weary, and pained. The coolies rushed in before the train came to a halt. I hurriedly wore my shoes…so that I could get down and catch a glimpse of her somewhere on the platform. But where could I find her among a thousand people. I didn’t even remember what she was wearing. Immediately, I got down and checked the reservation chart stuck on the train coach…..and to my amazement the portion containing her name was torn….! I was shell-shocked. “Why did she do this to me ? I knew her name …and there’s no other relevant information on the chart....Ohh!...maybe she didn’t tell me her correct name ! And that’s why she tore the piece from the chart so that I could never find it out!....Girls are merciless !”, I was dejected. “C’mmon, you were not her lover…not even a friend…! Why’re you crying over spilt milk ?”, immediately my other pragmatic half replied. It's sometimes good to have split personalities !
I came back to institute campus, got fresh and rushed for the class. I thought getting busy in the daily schedule will help me forget it all…. just like a dream. I found myself yawning…the teacher saw me and stared ! I had a notebook open but found it difficult to write. Sleep was taking over me again. I didn’t even remember what was taught in previous class. I turned the pages to find out what it was, when a sheet of paper fell. It looked like a part of my own notebook (some back page). When I picked it up, there it was….written ..in the finest piece of handwriting
“You’re really a dumbo….how could you sleep after ruining my entire sleep ? And then you don’t even care to ask about my contacts…what kind of a guy you are ? And how could you predict so much about me without even knowing me ? This is too much….I need answers to all these questions !!....you have to call me…this is my no. 9444645907” ………...Ananya S
It had conquered my sleep. I wanted to jump on my feet to do a Bhangra step…but somehow controlled myself. I called up immediately after class and said ‘Hello’….when it was answered by a harsh male voice… “Hello ?..Hello ? This is the Swaminathan house..who is it ?”
“Sorry, Wrong no.”, I said and cancelled the line. "So she is Ananya Swaminathan !" I called up again after ten minutes, “Hello..May I talk to Ms Swaminathan ?”
“Who is it ?”, 'twas a female voice. “I’m….my name is……” before I could finish…. she chuckled “Dumbo ? Isn't it ? Still sleepy..huh ? And you know my surname”. It was her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two years later......
“How is it ? How is the script ?” I asked her.
“Its fabulous ! You’re going to give Chetan Bhagat a strong competition in future”, she said.
“Thanks ! I don’t want to ...! …Do you want tea or coffee ??”, I replied.
“Coffee…!”she said, yawning.. and I went to the kitchen. She stealthily came from behind and punched my back as I poured filter coffee…..and then hugged me saying “Na’an unnai kadhalikaren”...
“Stop proposing me...I know that much Tamil…..and then you’re already my wife, I’m not going to run away!”
She punched me hard and ran saying “Don’t even think of that…you were the one who fell for me and proposed me first….”
“Ha, ha”…I said .. “It was you…you’d proposed first…in Tamil….I didn’t know it then….and then I did... thinking I'm doing it first….” Aani blushed..n ran....
She enjoys teasing me and I enjoy being teased more than anything else !
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to an actual event is purely unintended.
She enjoys teasing me and I enjoy being teased more than anything else !
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to an actual event is purely unintended.
